Strangely Comfortable
by Rhanon Brodie
Summary: Wren vs Pam. Follows 'Idir Aisling'. Can probably be read alone but I urge you to read Idir Asiling first to understand the context of this. OFC/OFC with some Murphy and Connor thrown in to keep it 'fanfiction-y'. M for certain. I can't beleive there isn't another fic out there with this title.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: For SaraLostInes because she expressed interest. Connor and Murphy did, too. A side piece to the Murphy/Wren and Connor/Pam arc. Takes place after 'Idir Aisling'; I suggest reading that one to understand the context of this. This is totally OFC/OFC, but with a little Murphy and Connor thrown in. Femslash. My first attempt at, too. Wren vs Pam. Enjoy!_

* * *

"Hey!"

Wren turned at the familiar voice and smiled as Pam wandered onto the fifth floor landing. "Hey yourself," Wren smiled. "You're meeting Connor?"

Pam nodded. "And I suppose you're here to see Murph?"

"Yeah, but," Wren paused and gestured to the door, "I don't think they're home yet."

Pam frowned and glanced at her watch. "Really? It's after six, they're usually home by half-five."

Wren snorted. " 'Half-five'? When did we get to the UK?"

"It's my grandmother's fault," Pam explained with a shrug. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her hooded sweater and leaned against the wall on one side of the door leading to the MacManus residence.

Wren nodded and affected a similar pose on the other side of the door. "Think we should wait for them?"

"Well, they've never stood us up before – what would be the point?"

"True," Wren agreed. "Still – Murph said he'd be home by now."

"And Connor hates being late. He's always giving me a hard time," Pam admitted.

The two women contemplated the missing twins for a spell.

"I bet they ran into Rocco," Wren suddenly spoke up with a sigh.

Pam continued. "And if they ran into Roc, that could only mean one thing."

"McGuinty's," the pair of women intoned simultaneously. They broke into a fit of laughter.

"Shit," Pam snorted, "if they were off at five and it's past six now…"

"They're completely shit-faced," Wren finished. "And completely useless."

They were silent for another little while.

"Should we go meet them?" Pam asked, though she sounded like it was the last thing she wanted to do.

"Do you _want_ to go meet them? I mean…I just saw Murph this morning."

"Connor was at my place last night," Pam admitted. "Should you and I maybe…go get a drink?"

Wren considered the offer. "I think Murphy stashed a bottle of whiskey under the kitchen sink. Connor doesn't know about it."

Pam laughed. "Just like Murphy probably doesn't know about Connor's bottle of Stoli behind the couch."

Wren smiled slyly and looked at Pam, concentrating on the messy bun the brunette had pinned her hair into. "Got a bobby pin handy?"

Pam glanced up, as if searching her hair, and then looked back at Wren, before reaching to the back of her head. "Yes," she answered slowly, pulling one from the bun. She held it out to the small blonde. "What do you have in mind?"

Wren took the pin and straightened it, and then dug into her purse and pulled out a small metal nail file. "I wasn't _always_ a bartender," she murmured before crouching in front of the MacManus door. She fit the pin and file into the keyhole and gently began to work it back and forth.

After a minute or two, and some very choice words uttered by Wren, there was a sharp _click_, and Wren twisted the knob and then swung the door wide. "Stoli behind the couch? I'll meet you there in thirty seconds." She stood and handed Pam her now useless pin and headed into the flat, making a beeline for the kitchen sink.

* * *

"Do you really believe all that shit about not knowing who's older?" Pam poured another two fingers of vodka for herself and watched Wren take a swig of whiskey and contemplate.

"It's a good argument," she started slowly. "And if I were the mother of those two, I'd find every way to stick it to them. What's her reasoning?"

Pam shot Wren a pointed look. "The one with the bigger cock," she shrugged. She set her glass down and held her hands apart about seven inches and then raised an eyebrow at Wren.

Wren crawled forward and inspected Pam's hands. Then she held her own out to about the same length and tilted her head. They both looked at each other and frowned. Pam shook her head first and then made a circle with her thumb and forefinger about an inch in diameter. Wren nodded and then grinned wildly. Pam gaped at the almost two inch circle that Wren made. Looking at each other, they could only contain themselves for so long. Wren cracked fist, snorting, and Pam followed, howling in laughter. They both collapsed back into the couch and had another drink.

"I can see it," Pam said, and then she snorted. "Not 'is cock, mind you. I mean Murph, bein' the older of the two. Conn's a little more outspoken. A little bit cocky, a little bit bad."

"Oh," Wren sighed, "Murph's got just as much bad in him. And cock." She frowned then. "Wait, that didn't sound right."

Pam erupted in laughter once more. "To late!" she gasped. "Murph is full o'cock!" she crowed, causing Wren to laugh as well.

"I always figured Conn was the oldest," Wren said after their laughter had died down to mere giggles. "He's always keeping Murphy in check. Seems to be a bit more rational." She looked at Pam. "You're not gonna tell Conn, are you?"

"What?" Pam said, before taking a dose of vodka. "That Murph is hung?" She shook her head. "Besides, he probably knows already." She gestured to the shower before them, and the two naked shower heads installed there. "Now, if that's not close, I don't know what is."

"But it's a nice feeling," Wren pointed out. She tipped the whiskey bottle to her lips and took a few healthy slugs. "That kind of closeness. You don't see that often anymore. My brothers aren't that close."

Pam shook her head. "Neither are mine. But then again, they didn't come to a new country when they were twenty with naught but their clothes on their backs. Connor and Murphy have to be close to watch over each other the way they do."

"What about that?" Wren said after a moment, gesturing to the toilet. "I mean, I can pee in front of someone else, no problem. I've peed with Connor in the apartment. But, _you know_, how does one…do _that_ in front of someone else?"

Pam giggled and nodded. "That _is_ close. I always leave here an extra half hour early to get home and do that." She made a face. "I love Conn to death but I can't even imagine."

"They're boys," Wren summed up. "Gross, disgusting, smelly boys," she added childishly. "They probably have contests to see whose crap is bigger."

"Maybe _that's_ how to determine who the older one is," Pam added thoughtfully.

"Ye mean the one with the bigger shite?" Wren rolled out in her best MacManus impression.

"Aye, lass! He who craps the Titanic wins!"

Again, they broke into laughter, and whiskey, and vodka.

* * *

"Found one!" Pam crowed triumphantly as she held up a Sharpie. She waved at the table with the marker. "Come sit. I haven't done this in ages!"

Wren lifted an eyebrow sceptically. "What? Drawn on people?" She laughed. "Don't you do that for a living?"

"Not anything that can wash off," Pam grinned. "Come on, you pour, I'll draw."

"Good," Wren muttered, pulling up a chair and unscrewing the cap on the whiskey. "I can't even draw a stick person."

"Seriously?" Pam twirled the marker with a flourish.

"No one at school ever wanted to play hangman with me. They were never sure it was a man I was drawing."

Pam howled as Wren poured whiskey in one glass and vodka in the other. She spun the bottle of vodka in her palm and cocked her eyebrow at Pam. "Glad to see we're sticking to our talents." She picked up her whiskey and took a sip. "Aren't you Irish?" Wren asked as she watched Pam throw the vodka down her throat.

"I am," she drawled. "But I hate falling into stereotypes. I never drink whiskey."

Wren shrugged and placed her right hand on the table. "More for me."

Pam waited as Wren poured her another vodka and uncapped the Sharpie. "Give me your other hand."

Wren paused. "But Murphy…"

"I know, I know," Pam sighed. "But you said it yourself, you can't even draw a stick person. I'm left handed so I can only do my right hand."

"Won't that be kinda weird?" Wren asked as Pam touched the felt tip to her skin.

"Kinda," Pam agreed. "But they're gonna be so shitfaced, they probably won't notice."

* * *

"Christ, wha' time is it?" Pam mumbled from Connor's mattress.

"Lord's name," Wren called from Murphy's side. She checked her watch. "S'almost ten. They are going to be greased when they make it home."

"Almost as bad as us?" Pam retorted.

"M'not," Wren insisted. "I'm a bartender. I can hold my liquor." She sat up suddenly and the room tilted to the right. "Whoa," she added softly. "I need a smoke." She started fumbling around Murphy's belongings, tossing T shirts and boxers in every direction. "How the fuck does he find _anything_ in here?" she groused to no one in particular.

"D'ye mind?" Pam's voice came out muffled as she caught a face full of black T shirt. She whipped it off and tossed it back towards Wren and stared up at the ceiling. "Have you and Murphy ever screwed when Conn was home?"

"Few times," Wren answered absently. "And that one…time…" she trailed off, biting her tongue.

Pam perked up at this. She sat up, also a little too quickly, and burped loudly. The bottle of vodka went up and back down after a sip. "What's that?" she sang from Connor's mattress. "That one time, _what_?"

"Are there any smokes over there?" Wren called, pretending that she hadn't heard Pam.

Pam rustled around for a moment and came up with half a pack of Marlboros. "Right here," she said, waving said pack around.

"Toss 'em over."

Pam cleared her throat and waited until Wren met her gaze across the gap between mattresses. "Nuh uh," she said, shaking her head. "That one time, _what_, Wren?" she asked again with a wicked grin. "An' if ye tell me ye had a threesome, I'm goin' te feel _very_ left out."

Wren would have blushed, had she not already been flushed from all of the whiskey she'd consumed. "No," she said slowly. "No threesome. But there were two one-somes."

Pam frowned. "Now you've lost me," she muttered. She shook the pack of Marlboros again. "Lookit what Pam has fer ye, Wren," she sang. "Be a good lass and tell me what the feck yer on about and ye can smoke em all."

"You know, the more you drink, the more you sound like Connor. It's kinda sexy," Wren quipped as she crawled from Murphy's mattress to Connor's. "Now give up the smokes, lass." She swiped at Pam's hand.

Pam yelped and rolled to the other end of Connor's mattress. "Nope! Not until you tell me what happened!" She squealed again as Wren got to her knees and lunged at Pam's long legs.

"Pam! C'mon, you don't even smoke – not even while you're drinking!"

Pam wiggled and held the cigarettes just out of Wren's reach. "Ye have possibly incriminatin' information about my boyfriend! You want to pollute your lungs, fine, but yer tellin' me a story, first!"

Wren gave a battle cry and toppled Pam to the mattress, straddling her hips and fighting to keep her arms pinned with her hands. "Just one! One cigarette and I'll talk!"

Pam laughed, her green eyes shining, and she shook her head. "No way! Off wit ye!" she bucked and Wren cried out, toppling backwards. "Jaysus, yer light as bird!"

"Ha ha," Wren growled. Suddenly, Pam's face came into view, hovering over Wren and smiling.

"Oh, c'mon, yer all tiny and shite. Murphy loves it, I bet, bein' able to lift ye up and screw you right proper against a wall!"

"Maybe," Wren chuckled. She cocked her head. "You telling me that Connor is missionary only? Cuz I don't believe it."

"Lord, no!" Pam exclaimed, shaking a smoke from the pack and holding it in front of Wren's nose. "But the one time we _did_ try fer it against a wall, he pulled his hamstring!"

Wren paused and then absolutely cackled, tears leaking down her face even as she grabbed up the offered cigarette. "Fuck off, seriously?"

"We had to put a cold can of Guinness on it!"

Wren snorted and put the cigarette between her lips. "That shit'll cure anything, right? At least, that's what Murphy thinks."

"That's what the _Irish_ think, Wren," Pam clarified. "Now talk."

Wren screwed up her face. "Can I at least get a light?"

Pam shook her head tartly. "Ye said one smoke and ye'd talk. Didn't say anythin' about a light."

"Bitch," Wren sighed. "All right." She shifted under Pam's weight and folded her arms behind her head. "It was a few months ago…the night after you got them to come to Grayson's?" Pam nodded and Wren continued. "Well, Murph woke up with what I'm guessing was a serious case of morning wood." She snorted. "Hell, I was still half asleep. Anyway, he hopped on and I didn't get off so when he went out for coffee…" and she trailed off with a hand gesture. "You know."

Pam grinned. She had an inkling, but she shook her head. "No, I don't. Please, do tell."

Wren groaned and closed her eyes for a moment, mustering the courage. "Okay, but again, let me state that I was still half asleep. Murphy went for coffee and I…took matters into my own hands. Connor was asleep right here while I…"

"Flicked the bean?" Pam supplied slyly.

"Rubbed one out," Wren ground out. "At least, I'm pretty sure he was asleep."

It was Pam's turn to snort. "I doubt it. He's a right perv, that one." She balanced up on her knees and snaked her hand down into the hip pocket of her jeans, coming up with a lighter. "Here," she said, leaning down and bringing it to flame.

Wren leaned up, lighting the cigarette and caught a glimpse of Pam's tattoo under the collar of her sweater. As Pam sat back, Wren blew out a stream of smoke and folded her unoccupied hand behind her head. "How far down does that go?" she asked, nodding to Pam's shoulder.

Pam winked and jumped up, pulling her sweater up over her head. "Starts here," she stated boldly, pointing to her right shoulder. She did a half turn and Wren followed the vine down her lean torso. Then Pam thumbed open her jeans and slid them down her hips. "Ends here," she said, pointing to the last curl on the inside of her right thigh.

"Wow," Wren breathed. "I'm not going to lie, that's kinda hot."

"Thanks," Pam winked and pulled her jeans back up, but left her sweater where it lay. Her golden skin was flushed with vodka and she sank back to the mattress and took up the bottle of vodka once more. "You've got a tattoo, don't you?"

"Yep." Wren clamped the cigarette between her teeth and held up her hair before turning her body slightly towards Pam. "On the back of my neck," she prompted.

Pam watched Wren gather her straight, fine, wheat blonde hair up with one hand and tug at the collar of her shirt with the other. "Sometimes I wish I was a blonde," she sighed before leaning in and reading the letters stamped on Wren's neck. "Yer gonna have to help me, my Latin's a little rusty."

Wren looked up as Pam swung her face back to hers, and their eyes locked in a strangely heated gaze. "Take it all," Wren breathed, her eyes lazily dipping to Pam's mouth.

They didn't know who moved first and it took them both a moment to register that they were actually kissing. Seconds passed and they pulled apart, feeling lightheaded.

"Oh," Pam husked, licking her lips.

"Yeah," Wren growled slowly, biting her own. "Oh, fuck it," she sighed, sinking her fingers into Pam's thick hair and pulling her mouth back to hers.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Okay, So I've had a few beers (after almost a year of not drinking, three is WAY over my limit! LOL) and decided to post this because I laughed my ass off as I was writing the last part. Don't worry, this isn't the end. I'm sure to continue. I own nothing save for Wren and Pam and I'm not making any money off of this. Although I should._

* * *

The first slide of tongue against tongue was a rush, something sacred, forbidden, tender. It wasn't their first girl-on-girl kiss, but it was definitely the hottest. Wren's boldness fuelled Pam's slight hesitation, and soon enough the brunette's fingers were sliding down Wren's spine and hiking up the hem of her T shirt to get at naked skin. Wren's hands found the firm cheeks of Pam's ass and squeezed before wedging a knee between her thighs and finding the open front of her jeans. As Wren's shirt went up, Pam's jeans slid down and both were confronted with veritable playgrounds of soft, rounded curves.

Pam was such a dramatic change to Murphy's hard angles and flat, firm planes. Wren wasted no time in dragging her lips from Pam's mouth, down her throat, and finally across her shoulders. Everything was so different, her taste, her smell, and the soft, breathy moans that fell from her lips every time Wren pulled a bit of skin up between her teeth. Her hands slid easily to Pam's breasts, still bound in the turquoise bra edged with lime green lace. Sucking in a steadying breath, Wren's fingers clicked the front closure open in less that one second, and Pam giggled.

"What?" Wren purred curiously.

Pam shook her head, tucking the fine strands of Wren's hair behind her ears. "That would have taken Connor at least five minutes. And not because he likes to take his time."

Wren smirked. "Just do me a favour and don't tear anything. Murphy has ruined a lot of underwear that way."

Pam hummed and held Wren's hands to her breasts before flicking her tongue across her mouth. "Can you blame him for being in a hurry?" She liked the leanness of Wren and the obvious muscle tone beneath the pale flesh. She was built like Connor, with graceful, powerful limbs. Her fingertips skated over the lean surface of Wren's belly. When she flattened her palm there, her fingertips dipping below the waistband of Wren's jeans, Pam felt the other girl's muscles flutter, and she heard a sharp intake of breath.

"You all right?" Pam murmured, looking into Wren's deep blue eyes.

"Yeah," Wren breathed before cocking her head and looking at Pam's hand on her skin. "It's kinda hot, actually." She flickered her eyebrows, and Pam looked down, too.

On her right hand, the word _aequitas_ was scribbled in neat block lettering that looked eerily like Murphy's tattoo. She wiggled her fingers and looked back up to Wren.

"It's like Murphy's hand," Wren explained, soft and slow. "But…you feel _nothing_ like Murph."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No," Wren rushed to answer. She extended the pointer finger on her left hand. _Veritas_ appeared there, in Pam's steady, near perfect lettering. "What do you think?" she husked, using the finger to trace a slow line from Pam's bottom lip to just before her nipple.

Pam's answer was another steaming kiss, and her hands shoved Wren's jeans down before tossing them aside, leaving the smaller woman clad in black boy shorts and a sheer black bra. "Is this considered cheating?" Pam mumbled against Wren's hip.

Wren writhed in response. "No," she moaned. "I think they'll be upset at the fact that they missed this, though." Somewhere in the back of her foggy mind, Wren had a sliver of hesitation, an inkling of doubt that this was a good idea, but Pam's hand stole up her leg and hooked into her panties, and erased all thought.

It may have been Wren who started that second kiss, but that was the only fuel Pam needed. She was on autopilot, eager to taste, and smell, and see, and hear, and feel everything that Murphy did. She'd be lying if she said she didn't feel some sort of attraction to the petite blonde.

Said petite blonde suddenly moved, executing a move that left Pam's head swirling as she landed on her back on the mattress. Connor's bed, then; it smelled like him. God, this was amazing – Connor's scent surrounding her, Murphy's girl stretching her out to lie like some sensual smorgasbord. She moved her hips up as Wren tugged her panties down her thighs.

"Fuck, I'm even _more_ jealous of you," Wren pouted with a pretty smile.

"Hmm?" Pam picked her head up and watched as Wren became fixated on that point of her body that Connor so loved to get up close and personal with: the piercing through her clit.

"You're so cool," Wren sighed, her fingers skating the edges of Pam's tattoo once more before combing the small patch of dark brown curls. She gently prodded the silver barbell with her thumb, smirking at the way Pam's back arched sharply with a breathy cry.

In for a penny, Wren thought, leaning over Pam then and fusing their mouths together. She took a breath and leapt, turning her wrist and sliding her middle finger down Pam's pussy, her own belly clenching at how wet the brunette was. Wren thought about how she liked to be touched, and tuned herself into Pam's body, and softly stroked the very tip of Pam's clit while her tongue worked a similar rhythm in Pam's mouth. She must have struck a nerve; Pam froze and clamped her thighs together, and twisted her hips with a whine.

"More," Pam managed to rasp as their lips parted. She pressed her head back into the Connor-scented sheets and clutched Wren's arm. Pushing her hips up, she let her thighs fall open as she stared up at Wren, both of them wide-eyed with wondrous lust.

"Christ, why haven't we done this before?" Wren murmured. She didn't wait for an answer and instead moved her mouth down the sleek column of Pam's neck, licking a long, wet path until her lips slipped over one nipple and sucked. The feel of Pam under her tongue made her own arousal spike again and she let her fingers slip down until they teased the edge of Pam's hole.

They dipped in, not quite penetrating, and circled, making Pam's hips lurch. Breathy moans filled the space surrounding them, and Wren groaned with her as she felt another surge of slick wetness coat her fingers. The anticipation was killing both of them; Pam's teeth were on edge, waiting for something she hoped would come soon. Wren did not disappoint, and as she pressed her teeth to Pam's nipple and the brunette shrieked, Wren sank her first two fingers into Pam and stroked her upper wall hard.

"Fuck!" Pam's voice was tight and her thighs clenched around Wren's hand, effectively stopping any more teasing from the blonde. She waited there, her eyes squeezed shut as the buzz of pleasure zipped through her veins.

The brunette breathed in and out sharply and slowly her hips returned to the mattress. Her thighs relaxed enough for Wren to disengage her hand. The blonde sat back on her knees, looking down into Pam's eyes, and ran her tongue across the fingers she'd used to make Pam come.

"Hmmm," Wren purred, licking her lips. "That's sweet."

"Yeah?" Pam asked, arching an eyebrow.

Wren nodded. "Mmm hmm."

"C'mere," Pam ordered huskily, grabbing Wren's hip and pulling her across her body. They kissed slowly, and Pam when their mouths parted, Pam wiggled further down the mattress until Wren was straddling her chest.

"Shit," Wren breathed. "What are you…"

"Relax," Pam murmured, her thumbs rubbing circles on the blonde's hipbones. "I'm nervous enough for the both of us."

Wren arched up on her knees and slid her fingers through Pam's tousled waves. Turning her head, Pam licked at the inside of Wren's thigh and then sank her teeth into the firm flesh there. Wren gasped, arching her hips further towards Pam's mouth. Pam clutched one smooth, taut ass cheek and hauled Wren until her knees were on either side of Pam's head.

The first lick was tentative. The second one went straight to Wren's nervous system. She shrieked, and fell forward, her free hand slamming into the wall in front of her, scrabbling for support. Pam's answer was to pull her further down, to shove her tongue deeper and roll it back and forth until Wren was a sweaty, panting mess. The blonde hissed her pleasure through her teeth, tugged at Pam's hair, cursed at her hotly, calling her a bitch, a tease, a slut, and all the while, Pam continued her torture.

* * *

"Ye didn't feckin' lock the door when ye left?" Connor snapped at his brother as they came to a halt outside of their flat.

Murphy squinted at the door through the amber haze of whiskey and frowned at the slightly ajar state of it. "Thought I did," he shrugged. He rubbed his chin and blinked slowly. "Fairly certain I did."

Connor snorted and took a wobbly step back, coming to rest against the wall next to the door. "Well, s'not locked now." He reached an unsteady hand out and touched the door knob, turning it with one finger. "Who the feck would break in here?" He looked around at the sad condition of the fifth floor landing. "No valuables to speak of."

"A vagrant?" Murphy suggested. "Kinda cold out there t'night. Maybe lookin' fer a warm place ta sleep?"

"Oh, aye, well he's gonna be feckin' disappointed," Connor demised. He watched his brother reach for the door handle and stopped him. "Oi. Wait a tig. What eff it's _not_ a vagrant? What if it _is_ a tief? He might have a gun."

"You're drunker den ye look, brudder," Murphy slurred. "Ye said it yerself, no valuables to speak of…the buildin' looks condemmed from th' inside, and _out_." He glanced around the landing and reached into his coat, handing over a fifth of Bushmills. "Here. Hold dis. I'll go in an' invesitage. You keep an eye on tings out here."

"Be careful," Connor warned, casting a bleary, wide-eyed look around the landing.

"Yeah, yeah, shut the feck up. M'always careful. Yer the one thas like a bull in a glass house."

"China shop," Connor grinned. "I tink ol' Doc is rubbin' off on ye."

Murphy scoffed and flipped his middle finger at his brother. Then, holding his forefinger to his lips, he shushed Connor and inched the door open enough so that he could slip inside. Before he could take a step in, Connor hauled him back out.

"Wait!" he hissed.

Murphy rolled his eyes. "Aye, now what?"

"Well…if dere _is_ a tief in dere…we need a signal. Sometin' dat will tell me ye need a hand."

Murphy nodded, slowly blinking away the second, more fuzzy Connor. "Good idea."

The twins were silent for a moment as they thought. "I've got it," Connor announced. "If ye run inta trouble, just call out a Hail Mary. I've got yer back."

Murphy nodded solidly. "Right. Hail Mary." He grinned and saluted Connor. "I'll be back," he announced in a horrible Arnold impersonation.

"What the feck is that?" Connor whined, making a face at Murphy's attempt at humour.

"It's the feckin' Terminator, ye arse."

"Dat didn't sound anytin' like Schwarzenegger."

"Oh, aye, ye can do so much better."

Connor smirked smugly. "Reckon I can."

Murphy narrowed his eyes. "All right, lesshear it."

Connor opened his mouth to reply but stopped short. "Wait, what the feck are we doin?"

Murphy shrugged. "Thought we were findin' out who's in our flat?"

"Aye. Right, then, off ye go."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Wasn't that an evil place to leave off last time? I love doing that. Anyway, here we go again in the Strangely Comfortable place that the four of them have found themselves wandering. I waffled back and forth on the entire subject matter – a lot of fics on here involve both of the brothers and one OFC in a threesome; or the brothers passing one OFC back and forth. Haven't read any foursomes as of yet – and there isn't one here, at least not right away. I had a hard enough time writing the femslash from the previous chapter (first time, and all!). Anyway, I hope I was able to convey what the reasons behind the actions of these next few chapters were, and the feelings, emotions, etc. that provoked the change up. Don't worry, this won't compromise anyone's feelings for anyone else, or destroy any relationships. I'm saving all of that angst for later!_

_Enjoy. I know I did!_

_I own nothing, save for Pam and Wren. If Mr. Duffy is looking for the MacManus brothers, he'll find Connor in my kitchen and Murphy in my shower._

* * *

Murphy poked his head back out into the hallway less than five seconds later.

"I'm goin' ta need dis," he whispered, yanking the fifth of Bushmills from Connor's hand and slipping back into the flat.

"Hey!" Connor hissed shaprly. "Feck – Murph!" He rushed the door and as soon as he was over the threshold, Murphy clapped a hand over his mouth and pulled him down to crouch close to the floor. Connor wriggled in his brother's grasp, his eyes wide and demanding.

Murphy held a finger up to his lips and then pointed across the loft. Connor slowly turned his gaze in the direction indicated by his twin.

"Hail Mary," Connor muttered.

"Full o'grace," Murphy finished.

The two looked on in quiet awe.

And lust.

"Am I seein' tings clearly?" Murphy whispered. "I mean, I had a lot to drink, but…"

"I'm seein' it," Connor nodded. "But not believin' it." He glanced to his brother. "Should we maybe…" He gestured to the two women currently working each other over on his mattress.

"I'm not interrupting dis," Murphy said quickly, in a hushed tone.

Connor lightly cuffed Murphy upside the head. "Like I would," Connor muttered. "No, I mean…maybe we should see if…they need a hand?"

"Or four?" Murphy countered.

Connor opened his mouth to reply but was cut off when a long, breathy moan cut through the flat. Both brothers quickly turned back to the mattress and gaped.

"We better hurry up an' get in dere."

Murphy was already shrugging his jacket off. "Ye tink they'll be quick about dis? It's two _women_, Conn. They can probably go at dis fer _hours_."

Connor contemplated this and then grinned. "Pair-fect. So…how should we go about dis? I mean…" he gestured between them. "Should we have some ground rules?"

Murphy rolled his eyes. "Aye, don't cross the streams."

Connor eyeballed his brother. "Anytin' else, Dr. Venkman?" he quipped.

Murphy took a breath to reply.

"Are you two going to just cower there and discuss things or can we get some help over here?"

Again, both brothers glanced to Connor's mattress to see Wren balanced up on her knees and Pam turned on one side to face them. Both of them were completely naked, clothes and half-empty liquor bottles strewn about the sleeping area.

"Told ya we should have left Doc's earlier," Connor muttered to Murphy.

"Whatever," Murphy shrugged, dropping his jeans. "Last one there is a pansy." He skidded across the floor and threw his shirt aside on the way.

Connor swore and tugged open his jeans, pulling his sweater up and over his head and chasing Murphy at the same time. He heard a slight 'oof' as Murphy tripped and tumbled to his ass. As soon as his sweater was off, Connor leapt into action and hurdled Murphy's prone form to land in a ball on his mattress. Giggles from Pam and Wren floated up and he righted himself in time to see Murphy crash down beside him. Both brothers were panting, sprawled in their boxers, grinning at the girls like a pair of fools.

"So, we're all okay wit' dis, aye?" Connor inquired, unable to keep his eyes from travelling over Wren's body once more.

Pam cocked her head, and looked from Connor to Murphy, smiling at their obvious differences. "I think so," Pam nodded. "Wren?"

Wren was busy looking from one brother to the other, her mind going into overdrive at all the wonderfully sinful things she could get up to. "Definitely. Murph?"

Murphy grinned. "Aye," he replied. Then he grinned cheekily. "Who gets to be on top?"

* * *

The sound of the shower starting woke Connor, and he blinked in the darkness of the flat. It was sometime before dawn, for sure, but he couldn't be exact. He could just make out Pam's wild head of waves spread across the pale skin of Murphy's chest, and he grinned. Things had certainly gotten…_creative_ over the last few hours, and both the whiskey and vodka had been consumed wholly before they were all through.

A small gasp brought his attention back to the shower and he watched Wren dance underneath what he assumed to be an icy spray. With a grin, he collected a blanket and staggered to his feet, and made his way to the shower. He draped the blanket over the half-wall next to the toilet and stepped under the spray directly behind Wren, turning a squeal into a startled cough.

Wren looked back over her shoulder and cocked an eyebrow at Connor. "Good morning," she smirked through chattering teeth.

Connor snickered. "Too cold fer ya?"

She grumbled and turned back to face the wall. "Well, I can understand why Murphy spends a lot of time at my place," she quipped. Her hands scrubbed over her face and moved to sluice water over her arms when she froze. It wasn't the water, but rather the feeling of Connor moving closer behind her, the heat of his breath against her ear, that made her cease all motion.

"Oh, aye?" he murmured, as he reached out with one hand and planted it next to hers on the wall in front of them. "I thought it was because ye had an impossibly tight cunt and ye suck cock like yer a Hoover." He grinned as he felt Wren stiffen and then shudder against his chest. His free hand slid down her spine and caught her at the hip, and gently pulled until her ass was buried against his rapidly growing erection and her back was arched dramatically.

"Well," she husked, "there's that, too."

"Hmm," Connor mused before smoothing his palm up her flank and cupping her breast. He plucked her nipple with his fingers, causing her ass to bounce back into him again. "Think he'd mind if I took ye fer a spin?" The hand on the wall inched closer to hers and he pressed his chest against her shoulders as he pulled her back, trapping her.

Her breath caught in her throat again and she looked once more over her shoulder. She had Connor's undivided attention; his clear blue eyes bored into hers as he subtly moved her, leaving her breast and pushing her legs further apart. She felt his other hand close over hers. Her head turned forward again, and hung between her shoulders in a display of submission that sent white hot sparks of arousal down Connor's spine and through his balls. He palmed her between her thighs and squeezed roughly, forcing a ragged sigh from her. Her legs trembled; she danced up on tiptoe.

"Think _you'd_ mind?" Connor pressed.

It was her dirty little fantasy come true. Ever since the first time she'd seen Connor in the daylight, she'd wondered what he might be like in bed. Murphy was more than she could imagine, for certain, but she felt like he was more reserved between the sheets than out of them. There was no question that the things he could do to her and did do to her drove her wild, but he'd never felt the need to just _take_. Connor, with that wild spark in his eyes, was the star of every submissive fantasy she'd had and now he was doing more than just _asking_ for her permission; he was _forcing_ it from her, like he knew just what she had been thinking about these past few months.

The hand between her thighs swiped up her back and wound her wet hair in a fist. He tugged gently but with purpose, and when he had her arched like a bow, he licked the delicate skin behind her ear. "Well, wouldya?"

"No," Wren whispered hotly. "No, I wouldn't mind at all."

* * *

He wouldn't let her move more than he needed her to, and he wondered briefly if Murphy knew that she got off on being controlled. She certainly seemed to like it, held at Connor's whim as he ground a painstakingly slow rhythm in and out of her body. His hips barely moved, but she squeezed him tightly all the same. He'd shut the water off some time ago, but her skin hadn't taken long to warm. She was blazing hot inside, and wet, and so snug that Connor had to pause and regroup. Her muscles no doubt ached by now; she'd been strained and stretched like this for him for almost ten minutes as he lazily plunged in and out of her welcoming pussy. She'd been silent at first, refusing to make any sound bigger than those tiny, breathy moans that he could barely hear. As his hand moved back from her hip and clutched her firm ass cheek, a pleasured cry sprung through the flat and Connor paused, smoothing his palm over her.

He brought his hand back and swiftly swung it back against her with a _smack_. Wren hissed and sucked a breath in through her teeth. He heard her swallow back a moan and he grinned. He swung again, and the sound was perfect, and her skin warmed beneath his hand. Her face turned to him, her chin on her shoulder, her eyes shut in concentration. He growled softly at her stubbornness and drew his hand back and connected a third time. A choked sob fell from her lips and she pushed her hips back into his with a pleading moan. When he pressed her hands into the wall, her fingers curled and scrabbled as she fought for any type of purchase; something to hold onto while he rode her.

"More?" he murmured, his palm smoothing the sting out of her ass.

"Yes," she nodded. She licked her lips and dared to open her eyes and look at him. She pressed up on her toes with another gasp.

Connor smirked and pulled at her hip once more, while his own hips picked up the pace. She wiggled in his grasp and her body tightened in anticipation of another blow. With a chuckle, he merely smoothed his palm up and down her side once more, and slid it around to cup one of her small breasts.

"Keep your hands there," he ordered, and when he knew she wouldn't move, his hand left hers and took the other breast, and he kneaded and plucked her nipples in time with his thrusts.

She whimpered, and an overwhelming wave of sensations washed over her. She was so used to being in control, to taking the lead with all aspects of her life that the release her lover's brother was building threatened to take over completely. She felt completely out of control under Connor's hands, and she was afraid she liked it.

Another resounding _slap!_ brought her out of her thoughts and back to the darkened flat that Murphy and Connor shared. This time, a cry did escape her, sharp and heated, and she thought of Murphy, of his cool demeanour, and smooth as silk ways. Lord above, she wanted him to touch her like this…_needed_ him to, and she pushed back against Connor and sobbed at the thought of the dark MacManus taking her over.

Christ above (Connor mentally crossed himself), she was tiny. Pliable, slender, almost breakable in his hands. Was this what Murphy thought of when he was buried deep inside the lass? He wasn't kidding when he said she was impossibly tight…Pam was more accommodating than this; Wren had a stranglehold on him and the more he slid in and out of her, the harder she clamped down. He moaned sharply as she wailed, and he moved the hand on her hip to between her thighs, his thumb glancing her clit immediately.

A curse broke from her lips and Connor watched as her shoulders tensed. "Good girl," he whispered. He rubbed the bundle of nerves again, making her head snap up, and he chose that moment to land another stinging blow on her ass. He followed right away with another, and then another, all in quick succession, as his other hand worked her clit furiously. "Come," he growled. His own breath stilled as she tightened around him. "Ah, by Christ, Wren, feckin' come!" he moaned brightly.

Her whole body tensed, and she pushed back against the tiles until she was pressed into Connor. He held her shaking hips there as he gave a series of quick, short thrusts, and then he came, too, right on the heels of her release. His forehead dropped to the back of her neck and he panted against her cooling skin.

Slowly, they both came to their senses and Connor reluctantly pulled from her body while Wren winced at the sudden vacancy. She leaned up against the cool tiles for a spell until she felt herself being gently pulled back and wrapped in a blanket. "It's late. Or early, dependin' on 'ow ye look at it," Connor mused. He kissed her temple fondly, not the type of kiss one might expect after a spectacular fuck like they had just participated in. She didn't mind, however, and Connor felt no need to further things with lingering kisses. She was Murphy's, just as he was Pam's, and an unspoken understanding had been passed by all four of them.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Some interesting response to the way things are going. And yes, SarahLostInes, of course I'm putting Pam with Murphy; did you think I could resist? Having way too much fun mixing it up. This chapter actually helped a lot with developing Connor and Murphy more than I already have. It's true that I actually see Murphy as being the older of the two (it's just a feeling I get); I also see Connor as being the more outspoken and the one that is quick to temper (remember the scene when the Russians cart Murphy away from the loft? Murphy plays it cool, and Connor is the one losing his shit) while Murphy, although playful, has a more quiet, reserved charm and it takes a little bit to crack his shell._

_That being said, here is the FIRST part of Pam and Murphy, because hey, he needs a bit of a warm up unlike his roguish brother who can jump right in. So yes, there is another chapter after this one. Possibly one more. Haven't decided. As I shared with pitbullsrok, I was bitten in the ass by the MacManus Muse (kinky). I've got more story to tell so I hope you're in it for the long run. BTW, pitbullsrok, do you have a camera in my place that I'm not aware of? How do you know I am wallowing in my reviews? Thank you for the curtsy, I can actually see you doing that. Thank you, to everyone that has reviewed, favorited, followed, or just lurked…you know who you are. Reviews are my bread and butter. I'm writing this for myself, but it's nice to hear what others think!_

_Longest A/N EVER! In case there is some confusion, here is the time line for all of these stories:_

_Unlimited Blue_

_Untitled 1 (continuation of Unlimited Blue, in progress)_

_Caught in the Furze_

_Up With the Kettle, Down with the Pan_

_Idir Aisling_

_Strangely Comfortable_

_Untitled 2,3,4,(in progress) maybe 5, 6, and 7? (continuation of arc through first movie and between first and second movie, and then through second movie and beyond? Let's see how far these boys take me)._

_Imagine reading the whole arc from start to finish! I'm so excited! Okay, sorry, I'm leaving, here you go, enjoy the smoulder!_

* * *

When he opened his eyes, his brow furrowed in confusion. He saw Wren beside him, sleeping on her side, Connor hovering at her back, his arm draped over her waist. Murphy glanced down at the mess of waves spread over his chest and closed his eyes, suddenly remembering Pam on her knees, her mouth teasing his cock as her nails bit into his ass. He felt the blood rush south again and he stirred, grunted as he shifted the sleeping weight of Pam from his lap and struggled to his feet. With a few staggering steps he made it to his mattress and sank to the edge, sifting through clothes to find his jeans and ultimately, his cigarettes. He found a pack in Connor's jeans and decided it was close enough – practically his, anyway – and searched the surrounding area for a lighter.

"You and Wren – the two of you can never find a light when you need one." Pam's soft, low voice curled around him and he looked up to find her standing before him, naked, her arm outstretched and holding a Zippo. She rolled her thumb over the wheel and it sparked and ignited, casting a golden glow along her curving frame. Murphy cocked his head and leaned forward, lighting a cigarette and thanking her from the corner of his mouth. She nodded and clicked the lighter shut, and then strutted to the kitchen.

He watched her go – he couldn't help it – and finally knew why Connor said he loved watching her leave a room. The girl had an ass on her, for certain. She was so different from Wren. Pam was tall, a scant inch shorter than he or Connor, with full, firm breasts, a tiny waist, and wickedly curved hips and thighs. Yeah, she was Connor's type, all right, but that didn't mean he didn't find her attractive. He cast a glance back to Wren, who had turned and buried her head against Connor's chest. The sight would have made most men boil with anger.

He and Connor weren't most men. He looked back to Pam who now stood in the white glow coming from the open refrigerator. The cool air had pulled her rosy nipples into impressively stiff peaks and Murphy ran his tongue along his bottom lip, remembering the taste of them, the feel of them between his teeth, and the way she had shrieked as he sucked and bit her. With the cigarette clamped between his teeth, he stood and sauntered to the fridge.

Not finding anything of interest in the fridge, she slammed the door shut, sinking the space into relative darkness once more. Opening the freezer, she fumbled for a bit and then pulled out an icy bottle. She was able to make out the words 'Stolichnaya' and she smiled before unscrewing the cap and taking a healthy swig. As she swallowed she shivered, and then held the bottle out to Murphy.

He paused and then accepted the offer, downing a healthy dose of the stuff and enjoying the icy burn of it as it settled in his stomach. His fingertips tingled. He took another haul off his cigarette and handed the bottle back to Pam.

She drank again and then took a deep breath before making a face. "Not that I'm complaining or anything but it reeks like sex in here." She took another breath. "And booze." She shot Murphy what he assumed was a pointed glance. "And cigarettes."

Murphy nodded and shuffled to his bed, grabbing his boxers and a t-shirt for himself and Connor's housecoat for Pam. Handing her the faded terry robe, he cocked his head towards the door. "C'mon."

* * *

There was a faint glimmer of light on the horizon, but the sky was ink-dark and the stars bright. Murphy led Pam out to the fifth floor fire escape that faced east and motioned for her to take the folding chair that was there, opting to lean back against the iron railing. The air was chilled and they both shivered, but Pam smiled and tugged the belt of the robe loose and held the neck open to the breeze.

"That's lovely," she sighed, closing her eyes.

"It's not Waltham, aye?" He smirked and looked out onto the blinking lights and never ending noise of Southie. "But it'll do in a pinch."

He smoked in silence for a spell and Pam sat back, enjoying the view. Truthfully, she had always thought Murphy to be rather adorable in that mischievous sort of way. Connor had the attitude, but Murphy had a quiet stillness about him that made her feel like there was always another layer of himself to be revealed.

"What turned you on the most about tonight?" Pam asked, her voice clear in the cool air.

Murphy paused, his cigarette halfway from his mouth, and blew out a stream of smoke. Inspecting the butt and finding it spent, he flicked it away into the darkness and watched the bright orange end of it disappear as he thought about Pam's question.

"I'll go first," Pam offered as she stretched her impossibly long lets out and balanced her heels on the railing. The sides of the housecoat fell open to her upper thigh and Murphy stared at the tanned length. "_You_ turned me on, Murph."

He looked back to his hands before slowly swinging his blue gaze to Pam. She was watching him closely with that green and gold stare and he felt his skin start to heat up. His mouth went dry; he could only stare and silently beg her to explain.

"I love Connor. Don't tell him I said that; I haven't even told him yet. But I do. And I love everything about him. But watching you tonight, with Wren …you take care in everything you do. You don't rush. You sample, you discover, you create." She grinned widely. "If fucking were an art form, you'd be a genius."

He looked back at his hands, his smile faint. "You sayin' Connor is a one-minute man?"

"Connor takes," Pam replied. "And rarely gives. But he takes so completely that I don't care. There's something to be said about mutual giving and taking, though." She let that hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "Again, I ask you: what turned you on the most about tonight?"

"Honestly?"

Pam smiled and nodded. "Always."

"That stud in your clit."

She laughed out loud, good natured, and crossed her legs at the little zing of pleasure that zipped through her when Murphy's tongue rolled over the word 'clit'. "Really?"

Murphy shrugged and looked at her over his shoulder. "Aye."

Slowly, Pam sat straight in the chair, the robe now hanging loosely on either side of her body. She moved her knees apart, and arched her feet to her toes so that Murphy could see everything at the middle of her body: the tanned skin between her breasts, the gentle swell of her belly beneath her navel, and the dark triangle of curls between her thighs. "Would you like to see it again?"

He continued looking at her from over his shoulder, his eyes bouncing up and down the exposed parts of her. "Aye," he said hoarsely with a nod.

Pam smirked and beckoned him forward with a finger. She watched as Murphy stood and turned towards her, her eyes lighting on his broad shoulders and narrow hips. He stalked towards her, leaning his face down to her level and she moved her knees further apart in anticipation. She'd felt his tongue explore her earlier, but with so much else going on, she hadn't had time to really savour it.

She was eager, he'd give her that much. But he wasn't going to relent so easily. After all, hadn't she mentioned something about him taking his time? He grinned, and pulled her to standing with a hand on either side of the bathrobe. "Easy, girl," he purred. "No need to rush, aye?" He hoped his words didn't sound too strangled. Her eyes were bright as he stood before her; he didn't miss the way she could look him straight in the eye.

"Kiss me," she said gently.

Murphy tilted his head, looking closely at her, and then moved his gaze down to where she was holding the sides of her robe closed. His hands moved from the collar of the robe to her hands and gently pried them open to leave the robe hanging open once more. He drew back one side, exposing her right breast, hip, and leg to the morning air. She shivered and he smiled, watching her nipple pull tight before his eyes. Inch by inch he leaned forward, his mouth hovering near hers, both of them breathing each others' breath, until she made a tiny impatient noise in her throat. Only then did he move, and she closed her eyes, waiting to feel his mouth move over hers.

It didn't come. At least, not where she expected it to. His lips touched her, for certain, but they didn't come anywhere near her mouth. Instead, she felt the rough brush of his whiskers against the upper swell of her breast, the sensation enough to make her gasp, surprised, and arch her back towards him. His lips gently closed over the very tip of her breast and sucked faintly. He let one hand wander to her hip to hold her steady and he smiled against her flesh when he felt her stiffen, and then grip his shoulders with her hands to steady herself.

It lasted seconds, but it was more than enough to get her blood racing. As he moved his mouth away, she whined, and sagged against the railing at her back. Her fingers laced through his hair as he stood straight again, his lips once more hovering near hers, his hands setting her nerves on fire in their wake. He stroked her hips, up her sides and back down, and then circled her breasts softly before sliding up to her shoulders and finally her neck, his thumbs caressing the underside of her jaw. Her head fell back automatically.

"Kiss me again," she urged. She didn't care where he did it, so long as his lips were on her skin.

He moved a hand to the small of her back and pulled her forward, pressing her breasts into to the cotton of the t shirt he wore. His other hand steadied on the railing and he pushed his knee between her thighs, feeling her hips lurch towards him. This time, his tongue flickered against the very edge of her earlobe before his lips closed around the tender morsel and tugged it between his teeth. He bit once, sharp and quick, and released her as soon as she cried out. Her fingers tugged at his hair and she ground down against the leg between hers, hard enough that if he didn't know she was wet before, he certainly knew now.

"Again," she panted, pulling his hair so that she could look him in the eye and feel his breath on her mouth. Her eyes flickered to his lips which smirked, and she watched as he cocked an eyebrow.

God in heaven, she was demanding. And greedy. And Pushy. She was like a female version of Connor, at least on the outside. He wondered if she was ever quiet; if she every just kept her mouth shut and _felt_.

"I'll kiss ya," Murphy agreed. "On one condition."

Pam shook her head frantically. "Anything. Just…Christ, Murph…"

"Shut up," he chuckled.

She stopped her rambling and blinked shocked green eyes at him. "Wha…"

Murphy smirked and shook his head, and then pressed his hand over her mouth. "I'll kiss ya if ya shut up, Pam. Just be quiet. Let me do my stuff."

Her eyebrows went up and she made another small noise of protest. Murphy's eyebrows went up with hers expectantly. "Not. One. Sound. M'serious."

Could she do this? Jesus, the man made her knees turn to jelly just by _hovering_ his lips over her body. It must have been in the MacManus gene pool, this ability to turn women into simpering fools. She nodded. What the hell, it would be a challenge, her not saying anything. He moved his hand away and she smiled coyly. "Okay", she mouthed, and made a motioning to zip her lips shut.

Murphy grinned and reached up, effectively 'unzipping' her mouth. "I'm gonna need dat in order fer this ta really work."


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N_: _Well, I was this close (holds thumb and forefinger apart a half inch) to letting this one hang in the breeze and let readers make their own conclusions. Valerie E Mackin, stop reading now! I've gone and posted another chapter – pitbullsrok talked me into it! And there's probably another one after this! And them maybe I'll plug some plot and angst into the smut and actually makes something of this sexiness-fest._

_Thanks for stopping by, favoriting, reviewing, following…as all my other fics, this has not run past a Beta. I don't believe in Betas, I just believe in me._

* * *

She's never been so silent before. Sure, there's heavy breathing in and out of her nose, but she makes no whimper, no sigh, no squeal of delight. Instead, she can only squeeze her eyes shut and concentrate on the skull-numbing pleasure that rockets from between her thighs and up her spine to the pleasure centre of her brain. She thought she had him figured out – thought that this brother was more likely to be passive compared to the other. He'd told her not to make a sound, told her not to move unless he said otherwise.

Connor may take, but Murphy takes _over_.

The scent of cotton and detergent and the sweet smoky smell of Murphy cloud her senses and she tastes the ragged terry cloth between her teeth as he tightens the knot at the back of her head.

"No talkin'," he mutters pulling the hair from her mouth and cupping her face between his palms. He bites his bottom lip, and sweeps that cool blue gaze up and down her body, making her shiver. This makes him smirk, and cock an eyebrow. He's gotten through to her simply by gagging her with the belt of his worn housecoat.

He leans over her, showing her that even though they are of a stature, he is in control, he wants to be in control – _needs_ to be in control. His hands move stretch her arms out, her hands sliding along the railing until her shoulders burn and her chest is thrust out. The robe falls open in the chilly dawn. His fingers curl hers around the iron grate and squeeze momentarily. "Don't let go," he whispers against her open mouth.

Her eyes squeeze shut and she nods once. She resists the urge to press her thighs together where she's hot and tingling, and no doubt wet.

"M'sure that Connor lets you have your way for the most part," Murphy begins softly, as he grabs the chair and hauls it in front of Pam. He sits, his face level with her belly. "An' believe me, left ta yer own devices, ye know yer way around the mattress." He leans forward and slides his hands up the outside of her thighs, grinning at the gooseflesh that rises in his wake. "But I like the quiet, an' I like ta do tings _my_ way from time ta time." He hears her swallow, the sound thick, and he gazes up at her as he licks his lips and palms her ass cheeks. "Now, hang on. M'about ta show ya what tha other brudder can do."

Her mouth is cut off and so she stares, wide eyed, as Murphy lifts her with ease and settles her knees over his broad shoulders. She can feel his breath against her; she can _see_ it fanning over the dark thatch of curls between her thighs. Her fingers tighten their hold on the iron and the thin, sharp edges bite into her palms. The railing is hard against her back, but it only serves to sharpen her senses. It keeps her focused.

"Christ, you're wet," he murmurs.

His tone makes her belly wobble deliciously.

He sucks a breath in between his teeth and with the edge of his thumb, he presses up against her softness, grinding it into the pubic bone as he goes. The touch is superficial; the pressure is marrow deep, and her thighs react, tightening against his shoulders. Her molars dig into the sides of her tongue as she stifles a moan. He watches her; not her face, mind you, but her body, her muscles tightening, her flesh quivering, and the way her pussy is suddenly gleaming with another rush of arousal. The hand that pressed against her moves back down, this time spreading her open so he can see _everything_. She's dark pink, and shiny, and she smells divine. That little silver ball that started it all is there, standing proudly as her clit hardens with the cold air and her arousal. Murphy growls. He wasn't kidding when he said that was the sexiest part of the evening (well, one of them, anyway), and he licks his lips again as he contemplates how to proceed.

He is content to breathe against her for a moment, concentrating a stream of air across her clit, chuckling as her hips buck and twist, and he glances up and sees that she is struggling to remain quiet, even with her mouth otherwise occupied. His smirk his back and Pam is certain she's going to die here, half-crucified on the fifth floor fire escape, her legs wrapped around Murphy's head. Her jaw twitches as she waits; her skin is crawling, is hot, is damp. She tries to convey her need with her look, and something must have shone through because suddenly she's choking on her breath and Murphy is snaking that clever tongue up the length of her pussy.

He hears a heavy exhale through her nose, but he is already moving on, pausing to savour her. She tastes like a tequila shot, like citrus and salt and the tang of the alcohol, and after taking a breath he moves in again, this time, lightly pursing his lips around the distended tip of her clit and the barbell that rests there. His fingers pull at her ass, squeezing the firm globes, spreading them apart, as French kisses her pussy, lips tugging, tongue rolling. His eyes roll up her torso. She is splayed with her head hanging back, her hair swaying with the gentle breeze, and the top of the robe as slipped down her shoulders and caught on her biceps. Her full breasts heave, and her nipples look painfully tight.

He feels her thighs tighten again and he eases his lips off with a wet slurp, the sound so sharp and vulgar that Pam's body surges and her head comes up. Her eyes are almost completely gold with her arousal and she glares at Murphy indignantly, unable to believe that he would just _stop_.

With another grin he rubs his lips with the tip of his middle finger. "You taste fuckin' incredible," he murmurs. He rubs her thighs and chuckles as she squirms, trying to get close to his mouth again. "Whas tha matter?" he asks softly, though he knows her answer. He purrs in response and flicks his tongue around her clit, rubs it hard and soothes it with a lingering kiss. When she feels the sharp flat of his teeth against her the tiniest sound escapes her, a choked sob, and panicking, she looks down her body, shaking her head, pleading silently _No, please, please, don't stop_.

Murphy pulls his head back to breathe. "I'll let that one slide," he husks, and then one hand leaves her ass to delve between her folds. His fingers do things to her that make her eyes cross. Her toes curl as he pushes his first two fingertips into her and plumps her clit with his lips. He could eat her all day, if it were acceptable. He has to wince as her heels dig sharply just below his shoulder blades, and once more his mouth comes away, his fingers teasing gently.

He looks like a glutton, down there between her thighs, his smiling mouth shiny with her arousal. That tongue of his touches the corner of his mouth; his fingers leave her for a moment, slide into his mouth obscenely, and then are back, wetter, hotter, _deeper_. She can only shake; she wants to grab his hair, she wants to fuck his face. She wants to scream his name and tell him she wants to come for him.

Never let it be said that Murphy isn't in tune with the person he's with. He can feel how tense she is; he can feel the heat of her skin, see the flush in her thighs and her belly, see how her muscles shake. He can almost taste how badly she wants to get shoved over that ledge he's keeping her balanced on. He's timed it perfectly. Looking up once more, he catches her gaze and curls his fingers forward inside of her and strokes firmly. "Lean back," he grunts. "Open your eyes."

She follows his instructions to a T and as she hangs backwards over the edge of the railing, she feels the beginnings of her orgasm. She breathes deeply. Her eyes water and suddenly, as the sun springs over the Boston skyline and washes indigo to gold, Murphy's fingers jerk inside of her, and his teeth clamp gently and tug her clit. She detonates and comes violently against Murphy's teeth as the morning explodes around them.

* * *

When he settles Pam down on Connor's left side (as Wren is still occupying the right), Murphy heads for the shower. He's always been an early riser, no matter the activity the night before, and the cold water is just what he needs to clear the cobwebs and take care of the ridiculously obscene erection he's sporting. Pam had protested up on the fire escape, murmuring a reminder that he hadn't come yet, and he had chuckled at her jaw cracking yawn. "Later," he promised, pushing her back in through the window.

Now he stood under the spray, and it was actually lukewarm for a change, one hand braced on the tiled wall before him, feet spread, toes gripping the floor, and his other hand fisting his cock lazily as he closes his eyes and thinks about Connor fucking Wren. They've swapped before, but never in the same room, at the same _time_, and Murphy idly wonders what it is about Pam and Wren that makes him and Connor so certain this time won't end like the times before.

Maybe it's because Murphy watched, maybe it was because Connor was watching him. Maybe it was because they were all on even playing fields. A threesome was nothing new; a foursome was decidedly balanced. He thinks about Connor's hand landing on Wren's pale skin, on the way her back arched so sweetly for his demanding brother, the way she had panted and moaned and _begged_. The remembrance of her breathy voice sends a wave of lust through him and he bites his lip and squeezes up his length, bringing a load of pre come to the tip and spreading it around with a choppy sigh. He'll have to remember to thank his brother for discovering that particular kink and decides that they'll definitely have to share notes.

"Isn't that how all of this started?" Wren's voice is husky from overuse and too many cigarettes, and while he is pulled out of his reverie, Murphy merely turns and looks over his shoulder at her, his hand still sliding up and down his length.

Her hair is a wild mess of waves around her face and she's sitting up on her knees on the end of the mattress, smoking a cigarette and cocking her head at Murphy's current activities.

He smirks. "You wanna lend a hand?" he purrs.

And that's when he sees the rumbled mess of sheets behind Wren move, watches as Connor rises on his knees and arranges Pam on all fours in front of him. "She's otherwise occupied, Murph. Wren," he calls, and the blonde turns and grins at the lighter MacManus twin. "Get on your back, lass. I've a mind ta fuck Pam an I've been wantin' ta watch her wit' ya all night."

Murphy groans as Wren follows orders, and he can't decide if he's pissed off because Connor's being greedy or because now he's left to take care of his erection on his own. He growls and slows his stroking, seeing the flush in Connor's cheekbones and knowing his brother won't last long this round. He shuts the water off and leans back against the tile wall, watching the trio closely. "Wren," Murphy calls out, and as she sprawls on her back and opens her thighs for Pam, she leans back on her elbows and stares at him upside down. "Don't come," he growls, his eyes bright. "When ya come, I want ta be in ya."


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: I think Valerie E Mackin said it best in a previous review: "Lots of limbs to deal with…how would you keep track of them all?" Well, a little something like this, Valerie._

_This one goes to…DeDe324…here is that ceiling, shattered just for you._

_This gets a little…explicit. Not that my other stuff isn't, but seriously, this is the first time I've actually written a threesome and not just alluded to it._

_And this is the last chapter of 'Strangely Comfortable'. I am working on a huge arc right now that focuses on Wren and Murphy up to the end of the first movie, and then I've got Pam and Connor in the pipeline during the last year of the MacManus self-exile to Ireland. Hopefully I'll have the first chapter of the Murphy/Wren arc up within the next week or so._

_Thanks again to all, I love getting your reviews, your favourites, and your follows. You are my bread and butter. Enjoy this with wine (lots of) or a joint (if you are so inclined), or perhaps both. Maybe a shot of whiskey to settle the nerves. I'm gonna go find my bottle of scotch. I'm like Pam, I don't drink whiskey._

* * *

A week later, Wren remembers a tangle of limbs. It comes to her, shocking her out of another routine pour, and her eyes widen as she watches the foam pour off the top of a glass of amber ale. "Fuck," she breathes, setting the glass aside and closing her eyes to collect herself.

"Y'alright?" Bryant asks from beside her, watching as her neck, and then her ears, flush.

Wren exhales. "Yeah." She smiles distantly, setting the glass of amber up for the waitress that had requested it. She starts on a two handed pour and is reminded of a two-for-one blow job on her knees in the MacManus flat. "Oh," she sighs very softly. This time, she leans back against the counter.

"You sure? You look flushed. Maybe you should take a break," Bryant prods, giving his co-worker a curious look. Her eyelashes are fluttering.

"I'm fine," she waves off breezily.

"_Christ above, you love sucking cock, don't ya, lass?"_

Connor's voice sweeps through her as the memory of Murphy's blue gaze burns her. The darker MacManus had his balls resting on her chin when his brother commented, and Wren had grinned (how she did that with her lips wrapped around Murphy's dick was still a mystery) and pulled off of Murphy and caught Connor's hip before he could turn away. She hadn't batted an eye before swallowing his cock, just as long, but not so much wide, and Connor had hissed and snared her hair in his fist and tugged sharply. She worked Murphy with one hand, fisting him tightly, while her other hand cupped Connor's balls, her fingertips stroking further back with every pass.

She remembers Pam appearing on her knees in front of her, taking a hold of Connor's erection and pressing her lips to Wren's. Together they move their kiss to the swollen steely head of Murphy's cock, and their tongues slide over the slickness that oozes out the top and Jesus, she didn't think kissing Pam could get any hotter. They share Murphy, make him whimper and moan, and he snares a handful of hair on each head and watches with wide eyes as they do a roundabout on his cock. When he is gasping, they move to Connor, and while they lick and suck, Wren's hand once more finds Connor's balls, tighter now, and hot, and she strokes even further, gently brushing where it is too close for most men. Connor snarls, and then it turns to a whimper, and Pam pulls off and rests her cheek on the hard curve of Connor's erection as she eyes Wren.

"_You keep doing that and he's going to come, Wren,"_ Pam purrs.

"You keep doing that and you're going to be broke, Wren," Bryant growls, referring to the overflowing beer and the tight ship the manager runs.

She swears softly and knocks the taps closed, and sets the bars out for pick up.

"Seriously, are you okay? You seem really…_spacey_."

Wren nods quickly. "It's nothing," she reassures Bryant.

"Yeah, well, that isn't nothing that's printing up there," he says, pointing to the order printer. "Come on, we're backing up."

* * *

Connor swears he can still taste Wren all over his face. He is lying in bed after the late shift at the plant, and Murphy isn't home yet, so Connor lets his mind drift. Every day, the memories of that night get clearer, and today he almost lost a finger on the saw when he clearly remembered Pam bouncing on his cock while Wren sat on his face, the two women leaning towards one another and kissing slowly.

He's got it made; one hot as fuck woman riding his cock like a pro, and she knows what he likes and makes her cunt flutter around him with every pass; and another woman, equally hot, and so forbidden it hurts, pressing her sweet little cunt into his eager mouth, and he can feel her flutter around his _tongue_ as she rocks her hips back and forth. Sometimes she's too far to reach, other than pressing her clit with the tip of his tongue, and he swears he can hear her smirk as she calls him the filthiest things she can think of, her fist tightening in his hair.

He'd had a lot of different experiences in the past twelve years since losing his virginity, but having two women go off like rockets on him _simultaneously_ had blown his mind _and_ his load. The memory of Pam sliding off of him right before he came was imprinted in his brain; she had stroked him to a searing finish, his load spattering across Pam's belly and breasts. Wren had scrambled off his face seconds later and knocked the other woman to the floor and let her tongue remove any and all traces of his orgasm. He remembers Murphy's chuckle as he sat up, and then the bottle of vodka being thrust under his nose.

"_We're gonna need it ta keep up wit' these girls,"_ Murphy points out.

Connor wipes his mouth and then pushes his sweaty hair back, blinking in the dim light. _"I think I'm gonna need a Viagra,"_ he chuckles.

Murphy, however, already has his eyes trained on the pair of women. _"Or, we can sit back and watch that for a spell_._"_

Connor swings his gaze left, watching as Pam and Wren share more than a heated gaze. Pam has twisted Wren onto her back and stretches one long leg out, straddling Wren's pelvis and effectively grinding their pussies together in the most erotic sandwich the twins have ever laid eyes on. Pam throws her head back as they touch, and Wren writhes and moans long and hot.

"_I do believe you have a valid point_,_"_ Connor murmurs as he feels the familiar stirrings of arousal flutter through his belly.

Murphy continues to stare, dumbfounded, at the pair of women writing in front of him. His lit cigarette is forgotten in the corner of his mouth. He merely answers, _"Aye,"_, and leans back next to Connor to take in the floor show.

* * *

Murphy is standing at _Moguls_, waiting for his black cherry hot chocolate when his mind begins to wander. It dallies on the day's work, on the pork chop challenge he won (because _really_, as if Connor had a chance), on remembering to buy cigarettes, on wondering if Rocco was coming out tonight, on the look of pure pleasure plastered on Wren's face as she took not only him, but Connor too, and let them fuck her into the floor.

Well, technically, they fuck _him_ into the floor. Wren pushes him back, clambering over his torso, her mouth melding with his, and Connor's hands grip her hips and pull her back, breaking their kiss as his hands palm her breasts and lift her to hover over Murphy's straining cock. Her legs spasm, and she hooks one hand around Connor's neck, pulling him closer even as she sinks down onto Murphy's cock and all but screams at the pressure and sting. She's tight, unbelievable after all the abuse she's been through, but then again he can't really believe he's got an erection this potent at this stage in the game.

"_There's a good lass,"_ Connor purrs, rocking her hips down against his brother. He mutters other dirty things to her, enough to make her wetter, enough to make her quake and quiver around Murphy, and when she's nicely wound up, Connor moves, presses in, and Wren's hands land on Murphy's chest as she hisses a breath and whimpers on this side of pain. She thrashes slightly, trying to buck Connor off, to get closer to Murphy, to just make one of them _move_. He sees Connor's gaze over her shoulder, sees the desperation in Wren's sweat-soaked stare. He takes her face in his hands and he has to stretch up and contort to kiss her but her mouth is sweet and slack, a moan staining their kiss. His hands move with Connor's, over her breasts and her hips, rubbing, soothing, and together the brothers talk her into their erotic little see-saw.

He sees Pam kneel next to Connor, and he watches them kiss as Connor still moves Wren up and down Murphy's cock. When Murphy's hands have settled on Wren's breasts, Connor and Pam curl their fingers together and trace a sinuous line down Wren's flat belly and delve between her thighs, no doubt strumming her clit, and their tongues continue to tangle. The sound of his own panting becomes harsh in his ears. She's even tighter now, her eyes wide and locked on his face, and Murphy's eyes cross slightly as the kid behind the counter stares a moment at the guy waiting for his hot chocolate.

"Whipped cream?" Wren murmurs. But the voice is wrong.

"HEY!"

Murphy is pulled from the fog and blinks at the tall, gangly teenager behind the counter holding his hot chocolate.

"Hmm?" Murphy tries for casual, but he's hoping that nobody in the café is psychic…or aware that he is currently at half mast and quickly rising.

"Whipped cream," the kid drones monotonously and Murphy nods and takes the finished drink and hightails it out of the café.

* * *

The whirring of the overhead dryer is lulling Pam to a completely relaxed state. Her eyes wander over the glossy pages of the magazine in her lap, the cup of coffee in her other hand more or less there for show – you wouldn't got to a coffee house to get a haircut, why would you get a cup of coffee at your stylist's? In any event, Ronnie's told her that she's under the dryer for at least thirty minutes, but it would be less, Ronnie scolds her, if she just took the plunge and actually got her hair _cut_ instead of _trimmed_. Connor would flip, and not in a good way, if she came back missing more than an inch on the length. He raves about her hair, how beautiful it is, and how he loves it long so he's got something to hold on to.

Her mind drifts at that thought. After that night at the twins' flat, she's had a plethora of flashbacks; the slow days at _UnLtd Blue_ are not so hard these days as she's got something to keep her mind occupied. In fact, she'd had to force herself to _not_ think about the MacManus brothers or Wren while she was at her other job. Daydreaming and tattooing were un-mixy things.

There's an article in the magazine called 'How to drive him wild' and Pam skims through it, thoroughly unimpressed. Now, if _she_ wrote the article, she'd have a field day, but the magazine would probably be stacked on the back rack with 'Hustler' and 'Penthouse'.

"_Pinch her nipples. Harder,"_ Connor instructs, stealing a glance over his brother's shoulder. _"It'll make her come quicker_._"_

She shivers, the memory of both MacManus brothers within her line of sight as Murphy mapped out her body with his mouth and hands.

"_Here, I'll show ya,"_ Connor interrupts. He shoves Murphy aside and pulls Pam to all fours as he kneels behind her. Her torso arches up as he folds her arms over her shoulders to hook around his neck, and he lifts her onto his waiting cock, slowly sliding her down until her ass rests against his thighs. _"Come on, Pam_,_"_ he purrs, rotating his hips in the slightest. She hisses and clutches at the hair on the back of his neck as he moves. _"Show Murphy how pretty ye are when ya come fer me,"_ he snarls. His hands glide to her breasts and cup them, holding her there while he moves her up and down his length. She's never been so wet; she can feel it slicking her thighs and Connor's lap and her mind is a whirlwind. He plucks her nipples gently at first, and then squeezes, and rolls, and pinches. She's writing in his lap now, her eyes glued to Murphy, watching his blue eyes widen and then go dark and lusty. A moan rattles out of her and she shakes, and behind her Connor hisses his praise.

Murphy snatches Wren as she nears him, and Pam watches with baited breath as the darker MacManus swiftly mounts her without preamble, pushing her shoulders into the floor. As Wren cries out and clutches Murphy's neck, Murphy's gaze continues to bore into Pam's. Murphy hitches his hips, wrenching a wail from Wren and grinning slyly at Pam. She smirks as best she can, and cants her hips back into Connor and squeezes his length for all its worth. Connor rears up and gasps, his hands tightening on her breasts before moving to her hips. She feels his forehead land on her shoulder, his lips swiping along her spine. She licks her lips, eyes locked with Murphy's.

Murphy twists his hips and then sits on his heels, pulling Wren's lower half up his thighs. Her hair fans out beneath her and the new angle makes her whimper desperately, a sound that sends a bolt of pleasure through Pam's belly. She holds her breath and stares as Murphy licks his thumb and lowers it between Wren's thighs. The blonde beneath him squeezes her eyes shut and pants, rolling her hips up to meet him. When Murphy looks back up at Pam, she's watching, her gaze hooded and dazed, and she reaches between her thighs and rolls Connor's balls in her fingers.

"_Connor,"_ she gasps, his name a plea and a warning. She's going to come soon and she wants him to come with her.

"_Ah, fuck, Pam, yes!"_ Connor growls, throwing his head back as he feels the molten heat spread from his balls up the base of his spine. _"I'm gonna come,"_ he warns.

Pam nods frantically and looks to Murphy, whose flaring nostrils and wild thrusts tell her that he too is going to come. _"Fuck,"_ Pam gasps, feeling the heat and cold wash through her limbs. She keens, her wail rising with the intensity of Connor's thrusts, and she vaguely notices Murphy begin to pound into Wren who has resigned to gripping his wrists as his hands guide her hips.

Murphy's shout is hoarse and sharp, a signal of his orgasm, and Wren tumbles behind him. Pam splinters on Connor's cock, but still he pounds her, muttering every filthy name he can think of (and some he's no doubt made up). The cut of his fingernails in her hips is a warning, he strains behind her, his thighs tense and shaking, his breath hot and moist on the back of her neck and he moans long and loud and low and suddenly cries out –

"Okay, I think we're done here, sweetie!"

Pam surges awake under the dryer and upsets the plastic cup of coffee. It's gone cold, and it soaks through the thigh of her jeans. The magazine flutters to the floor and she is gulping for air as her glassy eyes look around wildly, trying desperately to find two naked Irishmen and an equally naked blonde. All she sees is Ronnie in his loud fluorescent orange t-shirt and zebra print pants.

"Oh," Pam husks softly, feeling her cheeks flush.

Ronnie cocks his head at her with a raised (and perfectly plucked) eyebrow. "Did I interrupt something?" he smirks.

Pam swallows thickly, her heartbeat so loud in her ears, she wonders if Ronnie, and the woman next to her, can hear it, too. "I…" she begins slowly. "Ah…fell asleep." It sounds lame in her ears and Ronnie snorts, rolling his eyes.

"Come on, sweetie," Ronnie drones, waving her to his chair with a pair of scissors. "I want to hear more about this fine piece of Irish ass you're nailing."

And Pam has to pause and in her mind, she purrs _Which one?_

* * *

Chríochnaithe


End file.
